


mr. cellophane

by fiorisaturna



Category: Persona 4
Genre: F/M, of myself that is, why wasn't adachi/reader a tag i'm surprised and also ashamed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 10:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1506605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiorisaturna/pseuds/fiorisaturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'cause you can look right through me, walk right by me, and never know i'm there."</p>
<p>the hunt for adachi tohru turns into a singular face off somewhere along the way - but you're not ever really aware of how alone you are until you hit the ground. female reader/character perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mr. cellophane

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know why my first ao3 fic is so explicit/violent. it burst straight from my sleep deprived head onto the keyboard. please forgive me.

the tv world is as densely foggy as ever. it's worse than when you were first here, probably - you can't be too sure, though, since your glasses fell off some time ago. there's really no comparative scale for this kind of thing, when one end of the spectrum reads  _foggy as fuck_  and the other says  _same here_.

what you can be sure of, though, is that you're really sore for some reason. and that your head hurts, and your ears are ringing with the force of some impact. there's the urge to close your eyes and sleep it all off, which you're ready enough to accept; but there's also somebody speaking behind you, muddled and hazy in the mist, and you turn your head with a bit of effort as your senses begin to leak back into your control.

"yeah, i can hardly believe it either."

his voice rings dully in your ears and you shift in response, trying to pull your arms in front of you only to feel the belt tighten around your wrists. the buckle digs into your skin and you stiffen, returning fully to the present.

your persona is trapped in your head, without the strength to emerge again. you yourself are battered and bruised. your shirt's torn open and shucked down to your shoulders. and adachi tohru is crushing you beneath his weight (he never looked this heavy, but then again you're starting to realize that he's nothing like what you thought he was), keeping you down with his weight balanced on your hips and a palm against the base of your neck.

you suspect he's been talking for a while, from the way you can't feel your legs all that much. it would be marginally better if you were flat on the ground, but he managed to pin you with your knees folded under you and your cheek pressed cruelly to the cold, smooth floor of the television world; your ass is uncomfortably high up and you squirm, but he fists his hand and yanks so hard on your hair that you yelp brokenly and fall still.

he continues. "adachi tohru, _that_ adachi tohru, the culprit?" he shoves his free hand unceremoniously up your skirt and you thrash again on instinct, dislodging his weight but doing nothing to deter him from digging his nails under the elastic of your panties. "but he's so timid, so weak, so _normal_ -," he breaks off with a hiss and pulls your head up, letting you breathe for half a second before slamming your face against the floor, hard.

you stop struggling. your persona flickers out of your mind like a light.

"-that adachi wouldn't even have the balls to think of murder, right?" he lowers himself and speaks directly into your ear, his voice disgustingly sweet. "you all thought that. you all saw me and you saw that. and you all fucked up so, so badly. guess who gets to pay for that mistake?"

there's cold air under your skirt and suddenly your panties are stretched midway down your thighs. the muddled pain in your head is replaced with sheer terror and you jerk up one last time; you open your mouth to shout no no _no_ and he instantly shoves his fingers between your teeth.

"you thought you saw right through me," he digs a blunt nail cruelly into your tongue and you gag, then gag again as you feel something wet and intrusive pressing against you from behind. the slickness fills you with dread and you writhe, fighting the belt around your wrists and crossing your ankles desperately even if he's been kneeling between your legs this whole time.

there's a wordless, animal hiss of breath and he forces himself in, letting your hair go to grab your hip much too tightly; you scream.

"like i was-," he grunts, adjusting to the way you're tilting your body in a desperate gambit to get away, "-made of cellophane, you-," he jams forward and you choke on his fingers, feeling another inch of him prying you apart, "-fucking thought you knew, you _stupid little whore_."

the first few seconds are nothing but burning, oppressive pain. he's an invasive thickness inside of you and it is by far the worst feeling you have ever had the misfortune to feel; you thrash again, panic rekindling what defiance could not, and your jaw convulses enough that you bite down on his fingers.

it has expected results. adachi tears his hand free, swearing - you take the chance to gasp for breath, but now there are two hands on your hips instead and that gives him all the more leverage to slam completely into you with a snarl. "think you're tough, don't you?"

you would like so, so much to reply, but there's nothing coming out of your mouth but sobs. it hurts, it fucking hurts.

he pulls out, agonizingly slow, and you can't tell if this new feeling of distorted emptiness is better or worse. when he's out to just his tip he laughs and rams back in, sending a disgustingly wet tight sound ringing out into the fog. "you're _nothing_."

he's wrong; you're a mix of tears and pain and trauma shuddering around his cock. as he picks up a rough rhythm, you feel your cheek and your shoulder sliding painfully along the floor; you whimper and gasp in time with his thrusts, hoping that the cadence will help you forget.

eventually he grabs you by the hair again, pulling you upright until suddenly you're kneeling in his lap, rasping a cry at the feeling of his dick buried in you. the new angle is painfully stimulating and you wish you could just jerk your head back, hit him in the face hard enough to make him bleed; but his hand's moved again and he's got you by the front of your neck this time, thin fingers (you used to admire them when he passed you in the streets with a drink in his hand, you fool, you fool) clenching new bruises into the column of your throat. "move."

you cough, and you sob, and you slowly dig your hips down into his lap before beginning to rise. it feels worse when you're actively doing what he tells you to, but at least you can control the speed; that's what you're thinking, anyway, before his other hand is suddenly tangled in your hair - he pulls until you see stars.

" _move_."

so you slide back down quick, your head thrown back with the humiliation, and when you start to roll your hips he expresses his triumph and his venomous lusty hatred for you by sinking his teeth into your shoulder.

he comes like that after a few more minutes, shoving himself upward just as you fall back onto his thighs and filling you with what you're sure is a physical manifestation of your shame. you feel blood seeping down your arm and you're seeing spots from the oxygen deprivation; when he pushes you off of him you fall like a dead tree onto the tiled floor.

"look at you, now," he's ever so faintly breathless, but that doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers in your jaw one last time. "all your pretty layers gone. i see right through you."

your eyes drift and you catch a glimpse of his irises flashing gold; he pulls away and you drop your head, listening to his clothes rustling and his footsteps departing without moving an inch.

he's left you his belt. you feel an uncomfortable hot wet squelching in you when you twitch involuntarily; your skirt is still on, albeit rumpled in the struggle, and you feel the vaguest relief at not lying in the middle of the television world stark naked.

it's the little things.

you pass out.


End file.
